Title: Discoveries, Chapter One: Alone?
Author (including email): Shannon
(Fields_of_paper_flowers@hotmail.com)
Pairing(s): Legolas/Éomer
Rating: NC-17 (not this chapter, but for the overall story…you catch my 
drift.  DVD’s aren’t rated by the scene, why should stories be?)
Summary: Legolas discovers that his preference in lovers isn’t one of a 
kind
Disclaimer: Not mine, but I love them anyway.  Please don’t sue the 
college student with idle hands, a box of Top Ramen, and one hell of a 
muse, because that’s all I have.
Warning (only if necessary): Mpreg (how does that work?!?)
Authors Note (if needed/desired): Response to a little plot bunny by 
Dara, begging for an Mpreg with someone other than Legolas bearing.  
Dara, sorry it’s not Aragorn, but I think that there’s plenty of 
Aragorn/Legolas fics out there. Hope it satisfies your need for an 
Mpreg.

The night had been painful, the pitched battle and the deaths of 
friends and allies.  And the light of the morning had brought no 
prospect of a happier day for those who had fought in the resistance.  
After the uruk-hai had fled, the defenders of Helm’s Deep were left 
with barely more than the bodies of the slain.  These included so many 
an elven warrior.  A small handful of elves had survived the onslaught.  
Among these few was Legolas.

At the loss of men’s lives, Legolas was filled with an elven sympathy, 
but seeing so many of his own people dead brought him a great sorrow.  
The bodies of his people lay forgotten among the corpses of lifeless 
men and uruks, the fair mingled with the graceless and the grotesque.

He sighed gloomily, pained at all the death that surrounded him.  He 
could not small movements of life, mostly the Rohirrim separating 
theirs and the elven dead from the foul carcasses of the uruks.  He saw 
the women comforting the traumatized boys, mere ten winter children 
forced to defend, to little avail, with the men against the uruk’s 
assault.  Occasionally he would witness a man pull from the masses of 
the deceased a friend, or son, and fall to the ground in tears, unable 
to stand the loss of one so dear.

“It is a shame that it had to end this way.”  A quiet voice echoed from 
behind Legolas, and he turned to see the handsome Éomer.  The horse 
lord was crouched on the ground, holding in his arms an unconscious boy 
who couldn’t have seen more than eight winters.

“It is,” Legolas agreed shortly, his quick reply iced with an obvious 
disliking for Éomer, for upon their first meeting, the man had been 
quick to assume that the small band of travelers, Aragorn, Gimli and 
Legolas, were spies.

“I must apologize for my assumptions when we first met.  I know now 
that you are not enemies.  Without the help of your people, we would 
have been massacred.”

“Do all me think that a time for lament is a time for an apology so 
full of mockery?  I suppose my men were to take the place of all those 
of yours who would have died.  Is that what the elves are?  Fodder for 
the enemy’s sword?” Legolas eyed the man bitterly, his anger aroused by 
the deep sense of loss and fear he felt within himself.

Éomer noted the bitterness in Legolas’s tone and replied with caution.  
“I did not mean to imply such things.  I merely wanted to patch a 
wound, but I suppose in doing so, I have poured salt into it.  I am 
sorry.”  He had tried to get through to the elf, but it seemed to him 
that elves quickly formed long lasting grudges.  “You do not need to 
accept my apology.  If it is your wish to despise me, then so be it; 
just know that I would ask for your forgiveness.”

When Legolas didn’t respond, the young man returned to tending for the 
boy’s wounds, having said his last word. Legolas watched for a moment, 
then turned to leave.  As he walked among the dead and the wounded, he 
was often asked for help by the many men, but he only passed on.  
Something was aching within him, burning, bleeding deep within.

He had to find Aragorn.  Aragorn was perhaps the wisest man in 
existence, a worthy king, a trusted friend whom Legolas respected and 
loved.  Aragorn would be able to help him through the pain of the 
elves’ deaths.

There was a time when Legolas had fancied Aragorn, but his affections 
had not been reciprocated.  Aragorn’s heart belonged to Arwen, as it 
always would.

It had always been more painful to walk the path of loving other males, 
but to lose Aragorn was a particularly excruciating step in the long 
road of his life.  He had never found pleasure in lying with a woman, 
but on the few occasions in which he had considered bonding with 
another of his gender, his fantasies had been far more potent than any 
woman’s flesh.

Yet he knew that he was alone in this manner of thinking. No other he 
had ever met considered males in the same way. Not Haldir, not Elrond, 
not Aragorn, whom he had all wished to be with.

Legolas had never revealed how he felt to the ranger, but the pain of 
finding that the man could only love the fair daughter of Elrond had 
bruised him deeply, a bitter and grievous wound so deep as to scar the 
elf far longer than any physical injury.  However, that wound was 
healing, and he could once again bring himself to meet that grey-eyed 
gaze of the future king.

He walked into the main part of the keep, these confusing thoughts 
forming small fissures in his mind.  Yet seeing the entire hall filled 
with the injured warriors from the battle, he realized now was not the 
time to assault Aragorn with his questions, for the healer was already 
at work at that which he did best.

“Are you at all injured, master elf?”  The soft feminine voice belonged 
to the fiery Éowyn, who at the moment was more a gentle candle flame 
than a raging bonfire, which she was perfectly capable of being.  Her 
pretty blue eyes scanned him for a sign of a wound, but she found none.

“No, I am not hurt.  I merely came here to speak with Aragorn, but I 
see that he is preoccupied,” Legolas replied quietly.

“Is something wrong, Legolas?”  The young woman noted the soft hints of 
pain within the depthless blue eyes, a pain most likely brought upon 
him by the death of so many of his people.

Legolas paused before replying: “I have never seen so many elves die at 
once like this.  It is quite an unpleasant experience.”  He looked at 
her closely, only to see concern staring him back from the gentle human 
eyes.

“Do you wish to speak of it?  I will listen, if you will tell me.”

“Aye, my lady, I would tell you.  To tend to a wound is the best way to 
make it heal; ignoring it only makes it fester.”  He looked around for 
a moment, and noting the commotion of the main hall, the women and 
children tending to the countless wounded, he realized that this was 
not the place to discuss such things as innermost feelings.  “Can we go 
somewhere else?”

“Yes, of course.  There is a quiet place in the caves, a small place 
where we will not be disturbed.” She said, before turning to a passing 
girl: “Eleida, take my place.” The girl complied, and the elf and woman 
proceeded to the caves.  

The caverns were expansive, great chambers hollowed out by the slow 
passage of time and water.  Great stalactites hung from the immense 
ceilings, and massive stalagmites rose to greet them.  The entire cave 
complex glittered with the speckling of metal deposits and glistening 
dust within the stone, forming a surreal, dreamlike effect.  They caves 
were undeniably beautiful, yet the underground atmosphere did not 
appeal to Legolas as would a fair forest or a gentle river.

At length, the two arrived at a nook in the rock, a small hollow 
reaching in several feet, but with little vertical rise.  Éowyn bade 
Legolas to make himself comfortable, and he sat upon a small stone 
outcropping within the nook.  It wasn’t long before the silence between 
the two was broken.

“If it hadn’t been for the elves, we would have been massacred.  Rohan 
can’t ever repay that debt of gratitude.” Éowyn said softly.

“It’s true.” Legolas agreed.  He thought of the faces of the dead, had 
seen those that he had met before, cared for, dying in the battle, and 
his heart was filled with a torrent of writhing emotions; anger, fear, 
pity, loss.  But above all, there was sorrow.  “It pains me to think of 
them.”

The woman noticed the blue eyes begin to glisten with the sheer film of 
silver tears and responded quietly. “Then let’s speak of something 
else, if it hurts too much to talk of that.”

Legolas nodded.  It was a while before he spoke again, now deciding to 
ask about the strange encounter he had had earlier with Éomer.  “Has 
your brother always been so arrogant?”

“Arrogant?” Éowyn’s eyes went wide with surprise, then she smiled 
widely and laughed.  “No, he wasn’t.  I’ve heard him referred to as 
proud, but never arrogant.  Why do you ask?”

“When Aragorn, Gimli and I first met him, Éomer implied that we were 
spies of Saruman.” He paused, then reconsidered upon seeing Éowyn’s 
puzzled expression.  “Of course, that was only after Gimli insulted him 
and I had threatened to kill him.”

Éowyn laughed now. “Did you really?”  She paused for a moment to 
recover her breath.

“It’s not funny.”  This only made Éowyn laugh harder. Legolas slumped 
back against the stone wall, crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at 
the amused Éowyn.

After Éowyn had ceased laughing, she replied: “I could not really 
imagine you threatening someone’s life, Legolas. You seem too good a 
person to do that.  But you know what’s strange, though?  Éomer rarely 
takes to insult.  Usually it rolls off him like water off a goose.  Was 
this after his banishment?”

Legolas frowned.  “Yes, I believe it was.”  He immediately realised 
that Éomer had probably just been on edge that first day, angry and 
volatile.

“That explains it.  He was banished for implying that Theoden’s advisor 
had been working with Saruman, which it was no doubt that he was.”  Her 
voice had grown icy with contempt at the thought of Grima.  “You see, 
Éomer’s pride had finally been bruised, and a bruised ego and a man do 
not quite fit into the recipe of diplomacy.”

Legolas smiled, then the grin faded.  “He apologised for his behaviour 
today.  I was filled with such anger that I couldn’t accept it.”

“What was your anger based upon?”

“I think it was the death of so many of my people, the fact that they 
had come to your aid and many of your people did not seem to appreciate 
the effort.”  Legolas replied.  That was true, but it was also the fact 
that Éomer had seemed so arrogant when they had met.  But he heeded 
Éowyn’s words, and began to believe that perhaps Éomer truly had been 
having a rough time.

“Do know that we couldn’t be more grateful.  If your people hadn’t come 
to us, we would have been utterly annihilated. We owe our lives to you 
and your kin.”

There was a long silence between the two.  Legolas bowed his head, 
regretful that the battle had turned out so devastating for all 
involved; he was even sorry for the men.  He felt Éowyn touch her hand 
to his head and a silver tear fell from his eye as she held him close.  
The woman was becoming a good friend to him.

“I am sorry that I was so angry earlier.”  Legolas finally broke the 
silence between the two, and Éowyn withdrew her hug enough to look at 
his face.  With effort, Legolas worked his voice past the lump of 
melancholy and pride in his throat.  “I should not have jumped to 
conclusions about your brother like I did.”

Éowyn merely smiled.  “A lot of people do.  He tends to scare some; his 
intimidating glare, his sometimes dark bearing.  He used to use it to 
his advantage to frighten me when we were children.”

Legolas smiled.  “I know how that works.  My elder brothers would often 
amuse themselves by picking on the youngest.” He smirked.  “It wasn’t 
too pleasant to be tricked into things such as putting young spiders in 
my father’s wine, then seeing him nearly choke on one, only to amuse my 
brothers at my embarrassment.”

“Yes, older brothers can be quite exasperating when they decide to 
frustrate a sister by taking her only dresses, save my riding clothes, 
and filling them with ashes.” Éowyn laughed at the memory, recalling 
when Éomer had doused her clothes in the soot of the fireplace in her 
room just to make her upset.

“Ah, but one does come to appreciate family, and to laugh at these once 
embarrassing memories.  

“Absolutely.  I remember always hating everything Éomer did to me when 
we were little, but now I look back on it and realize that he was only 
pestering me because he loved me.”

“And he wanted attention.”  Legolas laughed.

“That’s true!” Éowyn smiled broadly and giggled at the silly memories 
of the many pranks her brother had pulled on her.

Legolas beamed, much happier than he had been before speaking to his 
new friend.  “So tell me more about Éomer.”  He asked, changing the 
subject.

“Oh, he’s quite the gentle warrior, if that’s not a contradiction.  In 
war, he’s a force to be reckoned with, but at home, he was always 
caring.  He’s not quite the pampered prince that is often expected of 
the aristocracy, for he is a warrior.  He is a noble man, a good 
friend, and a wonderful brother.”

“When I saw him today on the parapets, he seemed to be this caring 
person that you speak of, certainly not the arrogant man I met a few 
days ago.”  He looked at Éowyn, who was watching him intently, her full 
attention hanging on his words.  “He was caring for a young boy who had 
been wounded in the battle, not something I would have initially 
expected from him.”

“He has always loved children,” Éowyn replied.  “He cares for many like 
they are his own.  I think he wishes to be a parent, but his choices…” 
She trailed off.

Legolas furrowed his brow in puzzlement. “Choices?”

Éowyn’s reply came quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything,” But this 
did not satisfy her elven friend’s curiosity.

“My lady, anything said here would not be repeated.”

“But I do not know if Éomer would approve of your knowing.” She shifted 
uncomfortably on the ground, the small cranny suddenly seeming far too 
small.

“I assure you, it would not worsen my opinion of the man.” Nothing 
could really do that, he thought to himself. Éowyn looked at him, her 
eyes filled with some suspicion, but she did trust Legolas.  Why 
shouldn’t she tell him? After all, it wasn’t as though it was the First 
Age; people were much more tolerant of things outside of the norm. 
Thus, she gave in and told Legolas her brother’s secret.

“Well, what I said about his choices, he would not choose to have a 
wife, although he does wish to have children.” She paused and looked at 
Legolas, wondering if he had caught her drift.  He hadn’t seemed to 
have, for he just sat looking at her, listening intently.  So she went 
on. “His preferences do not lie in… marriage.”  She just couldn’t bring 
herself to say that her brother preferred men!

“I’m sure that he’s just afraid of commitment.” Legolas still didn’t 
understand.

“No, he will not lie with a woman.  He tells me as much.” She looked at 
Legolas, somewhat afraid of his reaction.

“Are you saying that he does not marry because he does not fancy 
women?”  And then it dawned upon him.  “He prefers men?”

Éowyn nodded and bowed her head, ashamed for betraying her brother’s 
trust.

Legolas certainly hadn’t expected that for an answer, especially since 
the man came across as masculine as one could possibly be.  But this 
news was quite interesting. It certainly didn’t worsen his attitude 
toward the man.  It was definitely good to know that it wasn’t just 
him.

“I should not have told you that.”  Éowyn’s words were somewhat muffled 
by her knees, which her head rested upon. 

“My lady, you didn’t exactly tell me.  I figured it out on my own, in a 
certain light.”  Legolas explained, trying to reason that she wasn’t to 
blame for his knowing of Éomer’s sexuality.  but Éowyn only shook her 
head.  “you merely told me that he wouldn’t lie with a woman.”

Éowyn looked up.  “It’s still breaking his trust.”

Legolas sighed and moved to sit next to the woman on the floor of the 
cave.  Putting a comforting arm around her shoulders, he said this: 
“Who Éomer lies with doesn’t bother me.  In fact, it actually makes me 
see more eye-to-eye with your brother.”

The young woman looked up into the sparkling blue eyes in the elf’s 
beautiful face, surprised.  “I would have never suspected!”  Legolas 
merely smiled.

After a while, they decided to return to the daylight of the outside 
world, Legolas feeling much better than he had before.